A Necessary Evil
by Askjfgh
Summary: Several years after 'Brave New World', Lyle is alone and is apart of the new association to train and fight against 'Specials' in the Great War until an attack is launched on his training camp. Characters from the original series will be included. Rating currently at T but may change when next chapter is uploaded- enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER- I DO NOT OWN HEROES**

**Thank you to anyone who either read or commented on my previous story, 'Upon The Invisible Thread'! The reviews are really encouraging (so far!) but as you can probably tell, I'm very knew to the fanfic writing thing, so hope I'm doing alright!**

**I wanted to do a story centred around Lyle as I feel that he is neglected during the whole show, and he has so much potential so I thought I would try and write something on it... so here is his reaction to Claire's jump and how he is involved in what happens afterwards. In this Lyle is also adopted, so it also centres around him trying to find his biological parents.**

Preface: December 2010

It had been a long day for Lyle Bennet; after having two-and-a-half hours of sleep the night before and getting up at six for school, and then having tests all day, and then football practice, nothing pleased him more than the idea of going home and doing nothing.

Of course, in order to achieve this, Lyle would have to face the challenge of getting past his mom and _Doug _first.

Doug moved in back in November, just before Thanksgiving, and ever since then, it had been absolute agony. Every day at precisely five o'clock in the evening, Doug insisted that him, Sandra and Lyle sit around the dining room table to discuss the best and worst parts of their day. Lyle liked to keep it short- 'Best thing? Lunch. Worst? History test.' But Doug enjoyed seeing the teenager's face bunch up in pain, so he enlightened the group by telling them _everything_ that had happened that day, including very minimal things that were unnecessary and dull. _Yuck._

Lyle wouldn't want to talk about his daytime activities with his own father, let alone this creep. Lyle was always worried that he would bore his dad, whereas Claire was so interesting, so _special_, which is why Lyle concluded that his dad, ever since moving out, much preferred his daughter's company to his son's. However, despite this, and the fact that his dad was a lying, self-destructive, self-righteous, pretentious bastard, if it came down to it, Lyle would much rather spend time with him than _Doug_. The guy seemed to act like he had given birth to his own bloody dog, for goodness sake.

Thank God it was Friday.

Lyle walked down a long road which eventually lead to his house. The sun was hidden behind trees, close to setting, but it definitely wasn't warm. Darn this winter weather. The sky was getting dark, yet an orange glow from the sun was cast through gaps in the streets, leaving silhouettes of houses and trees painted on the tarmac.

Lyle had football from two till four, which was incredibly tiring, though it did manage to keep his mind off everything which was rather pleasant, yet his mind was now no longer occupied.

It was cold.

And he was tired.

But he was almost home.

And it was Friday.

He picked up his pace and jogged round a corner; his house slowly approaching. He continued till he reached the residence, bounded up the stairs to the front door and pushed his keys through the lock that he had been keeping tightly held in his hands all the way home as his motivation. His arms were colonised with goose bumps.

Costa Verde High School wasn't too far away from the Bennet household, when driving. So when Lyle's licence was taken away for 'bad behaviour and attitude', yawn, (Doug treated him like he was seven years old) Lyle had to endure thirty minutes walking to school every morning and evening. For a lazy person like himself, some might agree in saying that this was a rather strenuous.

Lyle felt relief flow from him as he walked through the front door in the form of a sigh. Home at last.

He closed the door behind him and strolled through the hallway. His recent happiness was short-lived as he saw the condition of the house. Everything was in prim condition, and it was horrible. Every piece of furniture had been polished at least ten times, the floor was so shiny it was gleaming- he could possibly slip and injure himself on it, it was a safety hazard. And once again, new photo frames had been put up on the wall of that bloody dog. They seemed to have coincidently appeared as photos of Noah had disappeared. Interesting.

Lyle kicked off his mud-coated shoes and headed for the stairs. A small growl rumbled from the kitchen as he walked past it. _That dog_.

'Oh, shut it,' was Lyle's reply.

Ever since Ratbag's arrival, Lyle and her relationship had been rocky to say the least. She didn't like him, growling when he was near, jumping up to bite him when he hugged his mom, and barking as he ate. Her usual greeting was a disconcerted snarl. Lyle's 'hello' was more of a swift middle finger. At least the feeling was mutual.

Still carrying the heavy load on his back which were his books, Lyle jumped up the stairs, two at a time, ran to his room and dropped the bags by his bed and launched into the covers. They welcomed him, and shared some warmth. He lay in bed for twenty minutes, just enjoying the silence.

Unfortunately, the silence ephemeral. Lyle could hear the front door open and a voice cry out, 'Lyle, are you home, honey?'

'Yeah,' he replied to his mom curtly.

There was a brief quiet, till his mom arrived at the door of his room. 'Have you heard anything from your father recently?'

Lyle smirked. 'No. Why would I?' He paused to sit up on his bed, facing his mother, and then continued. 'I'm not special.'

Sandra frowned, her brow furrowed, and her green eyes were coaxed in sadness and confusion. 'He was supposed to call two days ago, check how you're doing at school.'

A snigger broke from Lyle. He was very used to his father not calling. 'Mom, this is Dad, after all. It's nothing new.' He got up and squeezed past his mom, proceeding downstairs and into the lounge. As he made himself comfy on the leather couch, he said under his breath, 'Plus- I don't care any more.'

* * *

Lyle must have fallen asleep on the couch. He awoke dazed and slightly confused, the smell of Mexican food circulating around the room. His mom must have been cooking enchiladas, which fortunately were his favourite meal.

His mom walked into the room and sat down next to him. Her hair was tied back and she looked tired, black bags underlined her eyes. 'Doug is going to be staying with his sister for the weekend. She's ill at the moment. It gives you and me some time together- so, does fast food and action movies sound good?'

Lyle smiled at his mom's offer. It sounded like a perfect evening. A normal evening.

With Claire at university and Noah on business trips, Lyle and his mother had got pretty close. But they most importantly understood each other. Both of them had their memories erased several times and the number of times they had been lied to was well on the way to triple figures. Also, they both knew what is what like to be left out of everything again and again and again; disregarded like pebbles in a box of jewels. When this was done by their own family, it hurt a little more.

_Protection? My ass._

'Sounds great.'

'Good,' his mom said, pleased. She walked out of the room while saying, 'Dinner will be ready in ten.'

Lyle reached for the remote and searched through the channels. There was absolutely nothing on TV. After a couple of minutes of scrolling through, Lyle put the news on.

He watched it idly, glancing around the room every once in a while in a fit of boredom. As always, the news simply replayed stories about politics, weather extremes and recent celebrity affairs; none of which caught his eye.

'And now we're going live to Central Park, New York City, as a local carnival plans to make world history.'

At that note, Lyle rose from his seat and ambled into the kitchen. His mom was no longer in there, though he could hear her voice on the phone from somewhere in the house.

He got himself a can of coke and returned to the lounge, where he once again plunged into the couch.

'Keep the cameras on me.'

Lyle's head snapped up immediately and looked around. He would recognise that voice any day, anywhere- it was Claire's voice, but she wasn't in the house- she was on the television.

His eyes bore into the screen as he watched her walk to a Ferris wheel, followed by a crowd of reporters.

'Holy crap,' was all Lyle managed to say. He realised what she was planning to do, though it wouldn't take a genius to figure it out. His heart was beating fast and echoing in his ears.

Claire had always complained about the life she had- how she wished it could be 'normal', but this stunt she was about to pull would take her to a realm far away from the distant land of 'normal'.

Lyle watched intently as Claire started on climbing up the railing of the wheel.

_Is this really happening?_ Lyle thought to himself. The shock he felt was quickly transforming into horror as his sister showed no sign of backing down or changing her mind. His father's face appeared in his mind. _Where was Dad? Was he involved in this?_ The teenager shook his head. His father would never consent to something like this. He'd spent far too many years making sure this never happened, and done far too many things that he would never be able to undo.

Claire reached the top of the Ferris wheel and stood still. Emotions flashed across her face, darkened by the black sky around her. Fear? Hope? A change of heart?

Lyle swore quietly and ran a hand through his now damp with sweat hair.

A choking sound emerged from over his shoulder.

Unbeknown to Lyle, his mother had been behind him the entire time, watching everything. Lyle whipped his head round only to see his mother's face drained of blood. It had been a very long time since she had the same expression. Her hands were covering her mouth and she was shaking ever so slightly. 'Oh Claire, please don't do this, please don't,' She was mumbling.

But there was nothing that the two could do except watch the girl leap off the wheel and land in a tangled heap a hundred metres below amidst the screams and yells of people around her.

Sandra's eyes were scared and glistening as she stared in horror at the screen. A single tear slipped from her left eye and slid down her cheek.

Lyle sat in silence as he replayed the last thirty seconds in his mind, over and over. She had done it; revealed herself to the world. Everything was about to change.

The television remained silent as if shocked by the sudden events as well. None of the reporters said anything; there wasn't a lot _to _say.

The cameras stayed focused on Claire as she snapped her bones back into place and brushed the dirt off her clothes and skin. As she spoke directly through the TV, a cut that went from her right eye to the right corner of her mouth healed. It was captured perfectly.

'My name is Claire Bennet and that was attempt number- I guess I kinda lost count.'


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes. *sigh***

**I am so so sorry for not updating! It has been so long and I am so incredibly sorry. I have been so busy since the summer; I've started a new school and my work load has been horrific. Yuck.**

**I hope you all enjoy this next chapter- it took a while to write, so reviews are totally welcome!**

_'__Go!'_

The shouted word hung in the air for less than a millisecond before the clap of bodies colliding with the sea interrupted it. As the five pairs of feet were swallowed into the murky green water, droplets sprouted upwards towards the sky and, as if in slow motion, blossomed like a flower.

The next line of people stepped forward to the edge of the worn-wooden pier. It was a steep drop; twenty-feet between the wooden planks and the frothy surface of the sea. It used to be used for fishing- old men sat on their chairs with their fishing-rods resting beside them while the wind played idly with their grey hair. But after all that had happened over the last couple of years, the pier and the island it grew from was abandoned by the people who lived there, and was since used as a training camp to prepare young men for the war.

Once the first line of people who were swimming and were a suitable distance from the pier, another shout rang out, like a gun shot, followed by the next line diving into the ocean.

21 year old Lyle Bennet was in the fourth row, the first on the left. His hair had darkened over the years, altering from honey-blonde to a light brown. His face had changed as well- he used to look like a regular teenager- expressionless face and his eyes only lit by the artificial light of computer screens. Now he looked matured- experienced; his jaw-line chiselled and his eyes glowing with a new light- determination, purpose, strength, power. Despite the cold wind weaving around him, he had no goose-bumps dotted upon his flesh, and his body wasn't shaking in waves of shivers. He stood tall and facing forward to the oncoming storm.

The sky was an ash-grey colour towards land and it darkened as it got nearer the horizon, with the clouds thickening also as they got darker. Above the pier, the clouds were low and looked as if they may soon spurt light rain showers.

It was December, but not the coldest it had been that year. Though, most of the boys around Lyle were shivering, unaccustomed to the wintriness. The temperature most days dipped just under 45 degrees, but there was no sign of snow yet; there was only the perpetual visit of rain.

The third line of people had just been enveloped into the waves, so Lyle Bennet stepped forward in unison with the four other young men in his row. Their toes overlapped the edge of the pier, their pale skin contrasting with the water below.

The word 'go' had derived from a tall man standing to Lyle's left. He was wrapped, head to toe in army gear; the green camouflage material corresponding with his eyes. His cappuccino-coloured skin clashed with the general colour of the boys' and his voice was heavy with a thick Italian accent.

'Bennet?'

'Yes, Sir?' Lyle quickly answered. His solemn face continued to face forward, out from the pier, but his words were tinged with curiosity.

'Walk with me.'

Lyle slowly turned to the man, who had already started to move towards the dense woodland that lined the entrance of the pier. It was unusual for this man to show gentleness. He was the one that could reduce the most egotistical of boys to mere children in a second, leaving them shaking in their place. However, Lyle, being one of the island's longest residents, had seen him show compassion every so often. It normally occurred when someone was upset or distressed about the training they had done that day; another time was when he told certain young men that they were ready to leave the island and face the real world themselves.

'_Crap._' Lyle thought to himself, as he meekly followed the man up the edge of the pier. His back stung with the stares from the rest of the group. He urged to face them, yet he kept his head down, and continued walking. A pile of shoes were built by a wooden pole at the front of the pier, discarded and thrown there from earlier as the boys ran to the end of the pier.

'Bennet,' the man said as Lyle finally approached him. 'I've been talking with the other leaders here, and we've all come to a mutual decision that you're ready.'

Lyle said nothing. The only response to the man's words was the whistle of the wind as it dispersed through the trees. He rocked on his heel, contemplating the consequences of leaving the man and returning to the pier. He knew though, that times like this where the man wasn't yelling or shouting orders was rare, and to ruin this would most likely cause a volcanic eruption that Lyle wasn't keen on seeing.

The man continued speaking, readjusting his black hat that provided little warmth considering the size of it, 'I know that it's been tough for you, since the start of this whole thing, but you've been here for two and a half years, which is over twice and long as most of the boys here.' He stopped to give a small, weak smile. 'We can't keep you forever. Everyone has to visit the front line at some point.'

Lyle still didn't speak. He just stared simply at the man, analysing and processing the conversation. There wouldn't be a huge amount of purpose in speaking anyway. He knew that no matter the number of points he gave, he would have no final say in the matter.

He had seen it coming though. His entire stay here had simply been a countdown to this moment. He had seen people come and go, and seen more people go and arrive. Each night he knew he was one minute closer to this moment. He just hadn't grasped how quickly this period of time had gone. Lyle hadn't grasped anything.

'When will I leave?'

The man, who had been watching the pier, turned his head round towards Lyle, sympathy woven into the green of his eyes.

'Tuesday.'

Lyle nodded. All of a sudden the wind picked up, and it carried light droplets of rain with it. Its low temperature caused Lyle to shiver as the droplets clashed with his skin.

'You have been dismissed of today's training. You may return to camp.' The man dipped his head and stared at his boots, like a guilty child. Lyle struggled himself to ignore the growing emptiness inside him. It was a hungry beast that was devouring his insides and Lyle couldn't do anything to stop it. He was too disheartened to try and defend himself.

'Thank you, Sir,' came Lyle's reply. He managed to nod once more before turning to face the grunge woodland behind him.

It was a bleak walk back to the camp. The clouds, so thick and grey and low, that had been threatening to burst for hours, finally did. Buckets of tears rained down on Lyle and his shorts clung to his body while his hair was plastered to his face. He had never bothered to pick up his footwear from the pile by the pier, so his feet mellowed in the muddy path, slipping and sliding without grip.

For the first time in a long time, Lyle was scared. According to the soldiers here, this camp was like a playschool- easy going, not fun, but compared to the stories he had heard about _out there_, it seemed leisurely. But out there, _the real world_, people were killed. There was no mercy. No one would be easy-going on you because you were young and involuntarily dragged into this war. Everyone was on a team and the main rule; destroy the opponents.

Lyle knew the other team. He knew them better than most. He had seen the damage they had caused and the trail of heartbreak and destruction they left behind in their shadows. He felt his blood gushing through his veins even faster as his anger grew just from thinking about it.

This war had ruined so many lives across the world, including Lyle's. His family had been completely torn apart, but he couldn't feel sorry for himself, not when pretty much everyone in the world had had their lives irreversibly turned upside down as well.

It was so effortless when he was younger; when he was naïve. Now, he laughed at his past worries: struggling with algebra, not completing a game level on his computer. Those simple annoyances that used to put his whole mood in a downward spiral were nothing compared to the struggles his generation faced today. He craved his previous struggles- what he would give for his only worry to be a thirty-minute test on mathematical equations. War had been a fictional occurrence to Lyle three years ago. He had read about it in history textbooks, he had seen it on the news occasionally. He could forget about it whenever he wanted because he could. It didn't ever affect him, so why waste time and energy worrying about it.

How wrong he was.

Lyle snapped out of his mind and returned his focus back to the stretching mud pathway ahead of him. His calf muscles were beginning to ache, and his soles of his feet were growing sore. It was his own fault though; coming to think of it, he wasn't entirely sure why he'd continued walking instead of returning to get his shoes.

…Because he wouldn't have been able to face the stares if he had returned to the pier. They would all know what the man had told Lyle as they walked solemnly together from the pier entrance.

He wasn't sure why he had let that bother him. He didn't have friends here or even acquaintance. There was no sodality- he didn't have _anything_. This place was a pit stop. There was no point in making friends when either you or they would possibly be gone the next day.

Lyle, after probably fifteen minutes of slow-pace cogitation walking, finally reached two small, wooden lodges that had an archway connecting them, with five turnstiles beneath the arch. But these turnstiles didn't take a ticket or card like ones found at train stations- that'd be too easy for any trespassers trying to get into the camp. Instead, the turnstiles scanned eyes and took blood. It was an extremely quick process; before you walked through, you would look into these binoculars where it would recognise your iris patterns, and then you would press your index finger against a small pad that would quickly prick the skin. If your irises or blood didn't find a match on the data system, a deafening alarm would ring out across the whole camp, and you would face a group of armed soldiers bursting from secret hideaways in the two lodges. Although a brief procedure, Lyle always abhorred the experience, even if it was for the safety of the camp.

As he approached the entrance to the camp, Lyle couldn't help but frown. He always felt that the 'protection' they used her was more to stop people escaping through the night out of fear instead of stopping attackers from sieging the island. The camp was better suited to a prison camp than anything else.

He feigned sickness as much as he could when he was first delivered to the island, though it always proved unsuccessful. The adults here didn't have the same relaxed view as his old school-teachers. At high school, he could say he had a slight stomach ache and he would be marched to the nurse's office within a minute. All he had to do with big it up, say he was feeling sick and had a headache that had started in first period and the nurse would be on the phone to him mom, asking her to pick up her son as soon as possible before he infected the whole school. On the contrary, the adults here couldn't give a damn if your arm was broken or if you were projectile vomiting, let alone a slight stomach ache. There wasn't anyone to pick him up from this place anyway, so he soon learnt to get on with it and accept the fact that this wasn't high school anymore.

A clap of thunder sang out above Lyle's head, just as he pressed his finger down on the scanner. There was a slight sting as his finger was pricked, but there was never any resulting damage from it. There were no scars.

The green light that blinked back at him from the front of the turnstile gave the 'all-clear', and the gate opened, allowing Lyle to return to the camp, yet he hesitated, taking a deep breath in. He wondered, if he stood there long enough, would the gate close, denying him entry of the base?

Another clap of thunder interrupted his thoughts, shattering his queries like a crack running through an ice-covered lake. It was then that he noticed that the rain had finally stopped. The clouds had also lowered, eerily floating at what felt like meters above Lyle's head.

It had happened so quickly, Lyle didn't have time to think about it. In an instant Lyle was on the ground, balancing on the balls of his feet and his knees while his hands gripped his ears. The shrill scream of the alarm blared out. It was so rare that the alarm ever went off- each time Lyle heard it he had always forgotten how deafening it actually was. He clenched his teeth together in order to stop a growl erupting from his throat. It was merely a second before a group of soldiers burst from the right lodge. Each and every one of them held a large gun in their arms. They swarmed around him, like bees to honey. He was just about to defend himself when one soldier gripped Lyle's bare arm and pulled him up to his feet.

'What's your name, kid?' One of the soldiers shouted above the shriek of the alarm. Lyle recognised him from a training exercise his group had done two days prior.

Lyle struggled to hear the question- it was barely audible, but he just about got it.

'Lyle, sir,' he yelled back.

The same soldier threw Lyle a handgun- miniscule in comparison to what the rest of the soldiers were holding. It only then occurred to Lyle, as another soldier told him how to use the piece of machinery, that him pausing instead of stepping through the turnstile wasn't the true cause of the alarm going off.

Something really was wrong.

With his heart beating in his ears, Lyle followed after the group of soldiers as they ran from the entrance to the camp. He picked up on small words that the men carelessly threw at each other about the cause of the alarm. Whatever had happened, it was at the pier, where Lyle had been all but twenty-minutes ago.

Lyle noted that it was _them_ that had attacked the pier. They must have come by boat, or flown. Either way, the main thing now was to stop them.

Adrenaline surged through Lyle's bloodstream as his feet bounced on the pathway. He still wasn't wearing any shoes. His feet would have become permanently brown if he spent any more time bounding through the mud. His teeth were clenched together as anger controlled his thoughts. His group on the pier were unarmed- _they were defenceless._ Lyle wasn't sure if their leader even had any form of weaponry on him. It was only a simple training exercise they were doing, and additionally, on a remote island, why was there any need to take weapons-

'Stop!'

The single word shattered the thick tension-filled air, and Lyle could almost feel shards raining down, scraping his bare shoulders.

The soldier who had shouted had his arm raised in the air, signalling silence and no movement from the rest of the group. Now they were facing the pier, although its wooden structure was barely visible underneath the low cloud line that had materialised in Lyle's absence.

Yet, the most haunting thing about the scene before Lyle was the insufficiency of sound. There was no sign of the group that Lyle had been part of earlier- Lyle hadn't seen them on the way to the camp or back down to the pier.

An eerie silence was cast upon the coast. There was no wind or trees waving- the only noise present was the faint alarm that continued to shriek in the background.

In all the years that Lyle had been here, there had never been an incident like this. It was a remote Island that not even Lyle knew the location of. He had been sedated, like everyone else in his group, on the journey here, and they had never been told where the island was or how long the plane journey was. Coming to think of it, Lyle wasn't sure if it had been a plane that had took him to the island.

Additionally, there had never been an incident that chilled Lyle's blood like this.

'Holy crap. Men, get ready to aim.'

The group of men including Lyle all jumped back at the silhouettes that were growing through the mist. They were grouped at the edge of the pier, where Lyle's group had been diving off this morning, and they were walking towards the soldiers at a rapid pace. It was a scene from one of those zombie-horror movies, Lyle thought to himself, as he watched more bodies appear out of the cloud. They walked together in such perfect unison, it was clear to Lyle that it was _them_.

_Them._

_The Specials._


End file.
